Two Tarisian Ales
by Wraithfighter
Summary: Knights of the Old Republic: Set between KOTOR 1 and 2, this short story explores Carth and how he deals with the departure of Revan. Some angst, some heartwarming, and a lot of ale. Set in a female Revan universe.


"Two Tarisian Ales."

The golden drink cascaded into the tumblers, same as last week. The bartender regarded the lone figure with a mask of understanding and concern, same as always.

The young men, full of life, the women, acting innocent and pure, the music, jazzy and light, never the same yet always familiar, the same cantina on the same day.

And, like clockwork, he drinks. He drinks the ale and wishes about what might have been, what could have been, what should have been if only…

If only…

And, just as every other week, she enters. She walks slowly, with all the grace a jedi can muster in such an environment, a place such devoted to love and drink and lust and cards and sex and everything that is good in the world and everything that is bad and all things that she fears, for she has seen and heard and touched and smelt and tasted everything that lies here through the mind of another, and yet she comes, she ignores all of the love and drink and lust and cards and sex and _life_ around her, and she walks right up to the man who drinks alone, just like every week.

"You know you shouldn't do this."

"What I do here is my business, and I'll thank you not to get involved."

And he drinks.

"Then again, you've never exactly been very good at staying out of things. You know, maybe you should practice that."

"I hardly think the self-destructive actions of one of my friends isn't my concern."

"Yeah?"

And he drinks.

"Then maybe you should consider that I don't want your friendship!"

"And maybe you should learn that I don't care what you want. After all, what you want seems to be to drown yourself in ale until you can hardly think straight."

"What I want, princess is to be left alone!

And he drinks.

"One night, that's all I ask. One night to forget. One night to hope. One night to wish for her to return to the people she left behind."

"And what if one night becomes two? Or three? Or seven?"

"It won't."

And he drinks.

"I promised her as much."

"One of my teachers once told me that 'it is a terrible thing to fall, but a far worse thing to admit it.'"

"First hand experience?"

And he finishes the glass, and motions for more.

"Although you didn't seem to find it that hard."

"It was different for me. And it is different for you as well. You may not have fallen from the light, but you have fallen from what grace you once had."

"So?"

And he drinks.

"I don't exactly see anyone crying about it."

"And that's the problem. You're a brilliant leader, a skilled pilot, a more than capable fighter, and a good man. You are everything the Republic needs right now."

"And they've got me."

And he drinks.

"They've got all of that six days of the week."

"I suppose there's no convincing you."

"Nope."

And he drinks.

"Is there ever?"

"I suppose not. But I would be remiss if I were to not try."

She eyes the second glass, and her look of concern turns to one of curiosity.

"I always wonder if that is for me."

"You know who its for."

And he drinks.

"You know every week."

"I suppose, Carth."

And she hesitates, thinking of the words she knows she must ask.

"You don't actually think…"

"Hope, Bastilla."

And he drinks.

"One day, she's going to walk through that door, and that glass will be there for her. I have to hope -"

"Because without hope, you and I and all of the others have nothing."

He drinks, and she sits. Just like every week.

"I should go. This … is not the best place for me."

"Never is, huh?"

And he drinks.

"And yet you come here every week."

"Until you stop, Admiral, I must."

She stands, prepared to leave.

"Please consider what I've said."

"I always do."

And he drinks.

"See you next week."

"And you as well."

And she leaves, just like every other week.

He moves to drink, and the glass stops at his lips.

And, should you look into his eyes, right at that moment, you'd see everything you'd need to know about him.

A veteran of one too many wars.

A soldier who fights for his own flag.

A husband and father who lost the two reasons he had to live.

A man who waits for his love to return.

And hope. For the Republic to survive, for the Jedi to rebuild, for his son to find his path, for his new love to win her fight.

And for the diamond band held in his breast pocket to find a home.

And he drinks.


End file.
